


Red Hand (Wrath)

by Half_SubmergedinPurgatory



Series: TG Prompt Collection [49]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, Gen, Prompt Fic, Thematic Imagery, literature references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 14:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11876508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory/pseuds/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory
Summary: ANONYMOUS:kanekis hand can talk and move on its own





	Red Hand (Wrath)

_**Remembering changed things.**_  
  
It changed the person he saw in the mirror. It changed the way his back rippled and twitched. It was a skin suit thinly concealing a thousand writhing snakes.   
  
_**Remembering changed nothing.**_  
  
His goals had never changed. Perhaps he’d been like since birth. His earliest memory was knowledge. A bite of the fruit, the sweet taste of sin, and the realization that love was pain.  
  
Books written by lonely people always said that.   
  
He felt their pain and tried to devour it ( _you are what you eat_ ).  
  
One of his favourite books had disappeared recently, making Kaneki think that he wasn’t the only hungry one. Scratching under his new red skin and a certain peculiar rustling at night reminded him of papercuts and flipping pages.  
  
What does one do when they wake in the morning, alone, but with fresh brewed coffee by their side?  
  
When their library begins to empty?  
  
When the voices of people they’ve lost echo from somewhere just out of view?  
  
When their hand distorts in the mirror?  
  
When it smiles at them?  
  
As Haise, Kaneki had lived constantly with hallucinations. He knew what they looked like.   
  
He knew this wasn’t one.

* * *

A hand caressed his cheek. Its nails bit into his skin.  
  
He rolled over, trapping his arm beneath him.

* * *

Furuta eyed Kaneki’s new arm ( _encased in red leather_ ) curiously on the daily. Teasingly, he asked if “Haise” was copying him and if red gloves were the latest trend. Then, snidely, he’d say “Haise” would look better if he kept the glove on just one hand.   
  
_**A red hand of wrath.**_  
  
Though he often had suppress impulses from it, Kaneki’s right hand didn’t even twitch.

* * *

The texture of the skin was all wrong. Whenever he looked at it indirectly, it seemed like it was pebbling and warping.   
  
It looked like a bird’s leg.

* * *

At night, he heard whispers in Kanou’s voice about the twisted birdcage of the world.   
  
He heard Arima’s voice, saying his other self’s name.   
  
He remembered all of its meanings.   
  
“I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high.”  
  
His hand whispered in his voice.   
  
“I see you ate Bronte.”  
  
Kaneki responded, resisting the urge to cut it off.   
  
“The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God’s name is Abraxas.”  
  
Heisse, Kaneki thought.   
  
“Abraxas was declared a demon by the Catholic church.”  
  
He murmured, wondering why he was conversing with himself.   
  
_**“I know.”**_  
  
Whispered his hand in the voice of Eto.

* * *

When he put on his gloves in the morning, Kaneki pictured himself smothering the voice. It wasn’t a part of him.  
  
It laughed.  
  
Kaneki went to work.


End file.
